His Claim: A Bad Boy Romance

FariaThe summer was finally here. After two long, wonderful semesters at Stanford, I was at last going home. To Venus, my aunt. And to Honisha, my best friend. When I was younger, coming home for the summer from my hoity-toity private school was like finally being able to relax after months of pretending. Honisha would put on makeup, and trashy, overstated makeup at that. There weren’t any bossy, spinster teachers to tell me to “act like a lady” or to “be proper.” Honisha couldn’t give a flying f**k how proper I was, so long as we were having fun. And we certainly had plenty of fun. I remember once sneaking into Aunt Venus’ treasure trove of costumes for workers, stealing practically a circus’ worth of lace and high heels, only to try them on and feel like the prettiest girls in the world. Aunt Venus might run the ‘oldest kind of business,’ but no one could deny that she did it with class and style. Another time, Honisha and I joined my aunt’s workers for a party. Though we were only twelve, the escorts who worked under my aunt had no problem giving us a few beers and a couple swigs of vodka. We were fizzing happily as fireworks within an hour, and though we begged the hookers for some of that fancy white sugar they seemed to love so much, they drew the line there. They knew that Aunt Venus would stop at nothing to protect her girls. That was the old days. Days when coming home to my aunt’s whorehouse, and seeing Honisha, given to my aunt as a spoil of gang warfare, was glamorous, full of bright lights, fancy perfumes, and women who paraded around as lovely and mysterious as swans. It was easy to forget that I lived a different life from them, that my aunt’s love and hard work afforded me opportunities that these women— and Honisha— could only ever dream of. But now we were grown up. I was in college now, studying business, learning ways to manipulate and magic-trick money until it reproduced like a warren of horny rabbits left alone in a den. Honisha, too, had also come into her inheritance: Whoring. We could romanticize it all we wanted, but my aunt was a business woman, and Honisha was a hooker. That was why, after my year at Stanford, I felt really nervous seeing her. Aunt Venus’ brothel looked the same as ever: clean, sparkling, and with just the right hint of dirty titillation. As I entered, she greeted me with a warm hug, sweeping me up into an embrace of flowery perfume and gossamer draping. She was a beautiful, towering woman, at least six feet tall, and with sculpted, painted lips. She leaned down to me to whisper, “Faria! It’s wonderful to see you! I know you want to say hi to your friends, but tonight, at six, I want to talk to you. It’s really important!” And with that, she pulled away, leaving a trail of glitter and mystery in her wake. After that, I had about fifteen seconds before Honisha emerged from her bedroom to figure out what the hell Aunt Venus meant. I imagined it had something to do with a new financing feat. Between her talents and my skills, we made a formidable pair. “Faria!” Honisha’s shriek of joy burst into the room, and she quickly followed. For a moment, I was afraid she’d stop and stare, or be awkward, but it turned out that I had nothing to worry about. She flung her arms around me in a tight hug, and in a second we were like our old selves again. “Faria!” she exclaimed. “You look wonderful! So … professional!” “Thanks, Honisha,” I said back. “You look so professional, too!” I eyed her thigh-high stockings and her black dress that was so scant it practically could have been lingerie. Honisha laughed, flexing her lewd young body to show off. “I’ve been learning a lot, too, you know,” she bragged, winking to the other working women as they passed. Several smiled and waved at me, but most simply trudged on. They were not worried about me. I was not a part of their world. “That’s great, Honisha,” I said. “Come on! Tell me all about it.” A devilish look came over her eyes. “To our same old hideout?” I grinned. “Same old hideout.” It would be that hideout which saved our lives.